Truths & Consequences
by lp2k
Summary: Hermione and Snape attempt to improve their working relationship at Hogwarts with a friendly evening of music and games.
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: J.K. Rowling owns these characters, and (deservedly) gets all the profits. Me, I just do this for fun. _

Hermione knocked on a door deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, an uncertain expression on her normally rather assertive face. The heavy door opened, almost to her touch, as if someone had been waiting for her knock.

"Professor Granger. You are quite prompt – please come in." Severus Snape pushed open the door to his study and private quarters, standing back to allow her to enter. As soon as the door closed, she heard an array of noises that seemed to come from inside the door, and looked questioningly at the older teacher. "Part of my security system," he explained.

"Against surprise visits from your… former colleagues, I assume?"

"Against visits from prank-minded students, in fact." Snape led the way to his sitting room, and gestured Hermione into a chair.

"May I offer you something? I believe I am equipped with tea, mead, firewhiskey… No butterbeer, I'm afraid," he added, raising an eyebrow in reference to a memorable incident during her sixth year at school, in which he had discovered her, along with Potter and Weasley, quite drunk on the sweet beverage, on their way to some type of nocturnal forest adventure. While he had no conclusive evidence, he rather suspected that he'd saved her from an awkward mistake, based on the body language he'd had a chance to observe between the three of them before intervening as they reached the forest edge.

Hermione blushed, obviously recalling the same event. "Mead would be fine, Professor," she said quickly. Snape poured them each a glass, and joined her in his sitting area, facing her across a small table. Sipping her drink, Hermione found herself wondering why she'd been invited, and waiting for him to speak. She'd not had the faintest idea what to make of the invitation this morning over breakfast – she hadn't even noticed that she and Snape were the only teachers still sitting at the staff table, until she looked up from her coffee and toast to see him towering over her. "Professor Granger, I wonder if you'd stop by my study this evening, after dinner," he said. She must have conveyed surprise, but he merely stood there, awaiting her response. She'd fumbled for a moment, then agreed. "Would eight o'clock be convenient for you?" he queried.

So she had presented herself at his door at eight o'clock precisely, still with no clue what the subject matter was to be for this meeting. Was there a problem with a student in Gryffindor? Hermione was the youngest Head of House in Hogwarts history, she knew, but she felt she'd done a reasonable job so far this year, and was dreading whatever complaint Snape wished to lodge with her.

She sipped her drink again, taking in a goodly amount to fortify her, and asked, "Professor, thank you for the invitation, but was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?"

"Something in particular?" Snape considered this. "What, in particular, did you think I asked you here to discuss?" A hint of his student-mocking tone entered his voice, adding an edge of steel beneath his always elegant speech.

"I just… thought there might be a problem, maybe with one of the Gryffindor first-years, or…" Hermione trailed off, resisting the feeling of defiance that that particular tone of Snape's had always engendered in her.

"No, Miss Granger, there is no problem, beyond the general and inevitable stupidity and incompetence rampant among the students of this school," Snape drawled. "As far as can be seen, you are as capable a Head of House as Headmistress McGonagall was."

Hermione flushed slightly, as she always had when receiving a teacher's approval. She was still struggling to find her footing as a teacher here at Hogwarts – it was difficult after returning to teach only 2 years after completing her NEWTs, and she had not yet overcome the tendency to address the other teachers as 'Professor.'

Snape regarded her across the table for a time, noticing that her glass of mead was nearly drained. Perhaps she was nervous about being in his quarters? He refilled her glass, topping off his own. "To be frank, it has seemed to me that our working relationship is somewhat… strained, and I wished to remedy the situation if possible."

Snape had, in fact, been lonely after returning to Hogwarts after the war, in a way that he had never experienced in all the preceding solitary years. He had actually attempted to approach the other teachers on occasion, but found it quite difficult to overcome his decades-long history of aloofness. Hermione Granger, however, was new to the staff, and seemed less inclined to assume anything about him. He watched her over the rim of his glass, wondering if she would detect his deeper motives, looking for signs of pity or anger.

Hermione shifted in her chair, looking for a correct answer. "I wasn't aware of anything feeling strained, but I agree that our 'working relationship' could be improved," she said, smiling very slightly at him.

"I am happy that you agree," Snape responded, a droll humor again creeping into his voice. They sipped their glasses of mead again, listening to a clock tick off seconds somewhere deeper in Snape's rooms.

"I-"

"So-"

They both chose the same moment to break the silence. Snape gestured silently for her to continue.

"So, should we put on some music?" Hermione had been looking around the room, searching for something to provide some kind of normal atmosphere.

"Music?" Despite the fact that he owned an old-style Muggle phonograph and a dusty stack of vinyl records, Snape seemed to have never thought of this idea before.

"Or would could play a game," suggested Hermione. "I noticed you have quite the collection of strategy games on that shelf," she said, standing up and walking towards a collection of vintage Muggle games also covered in dust.

"I was under the impression that you disliked Wizard's Chess?" Snape had heard her condemn the game for its violence.

"Yes, but I grew up playing some of these games," Hermione replied. "Perhaps regular chess? Oh! You have this?" She picked up a different game and turned to face Snape.

"You know how to play that?" Snape had encountered few people who recognized the game set, consisting only of a hard slate board and small black and white pieces.

"It's been awhile, but I learned it as a child." She paused, considering. "Actually, though, there's another game I learned as a child that would better suit our purpose. It's not a strategy game, though."

"Yes?" When she said nothing, but only chewed her lip gently, Snape raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

"It's called… well, it's called lots of things, but I learned it as 'Truth or Consequences.'" She avoided his eyes while speaking, but her glance immediately rose to Snape's face once the words were out. He was just looking at her, so she continued, "You know, it's one of those games people sometimes play to get to know each other better, and since you were talking about working together… " Still no response. "But chess is good too," she finished hurriedly, and even had the chess set in her hands by the time Snape spoke.

"I believe your game would be ideal for our purposes, Miss Granger, thank you for remembering it. I have also heard of it, although I was under the impression it was more of a courting ritual among Muggles." He hid his smile and watched a blush climb up her face, even as she schooled her features into seriousness.

"Do you know how to play, or shall I go over the rules?"

Forestalling what he suspected would be a long and detailed description, Snape hastily interjected, "I believe I'll be able to keep up, thank you, Miss Granger." He watched her regain her seat across from him. "Would you care to begin?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright – truth or consequences?"

"Truth." Snape's response was immediate, and wholly predictable.

"What is your opinion of me as a teacher?" Snape chuckled inwardly – hard as he'd been on her as a student, she still sought his approval even now.

"I believe you are a competent Transfiguration professor, as far as the subject matter takes you. Your primary problem in the classroom is lack of confidence, I've noticed."

Hermione was surprised that he'd noticed her teaching style (or lack thereof) at all, frankly. "Thank you, Professor. Your turn."

"Truth or consequences, Miss Granger?"

"Truth, please."

"Why did you return so soon to Hogwarts, instead of taking employment in the outside world? You could surely have taken your pick of enviable positions." He had, in fact, wondered about this quite a bit, but hadn't found any polite was of asking her. So he'd asked the Headmistress, who had informed him that it was Hermione's story to tell. He observed her as she consumed a large amount of the mead remaining in her glass, and breathed in deeply.

"My parents… during the war they suffered a great deal when they couldn't find me, or find out where I was, or if I was alright. When it was over and I was able to see them again, it turned out that my mother had a stroke, which is a Muggle illness that affects the brain, and my father wouldn't allow anyone to treat her with Magic." Her eyes glistened, and Snape lowered his gaze as she took another breath and wrapped her arms around herself, as if chilled. "He takes care of her now, but it helps for me to be able to visit home frequently, and be there during the summers too."

She stared into her empty glass for a few moments, while he waited silently. When she at last looked up, her eyes were clear, although still sad. "Would you care for another drink?" he asked, picking up her glass and draining his own.

"Yes, thank you, Professor." Pouring out the mead again, Snape's eye was caught by the firewhiskey sitting on the bar. It would help her feel warm again, he thought. He poured a measure of the golden-red liquid into each of the glasses, letting it float on top of the mead.

"Have you tasted a Dragon's Breath cocktail before, Miss Granger?" He placed the drinks on the table between them. She shook her head, examining the glass, which was now filled with a swirling range of colors and what looked like smoke.

"It tastes mild, but it is somewhat more potent than the mead alone, so I would advise…" Snape discontinued this thought when he noticed that Hermione had already taken a large swallow from her glass, closing her eyes as the heat melted over her. When her eyes opened again, they were glazed but, Snape was pleased to see, very warm indeed.

"This is delicious, Professor, I've never tasted something like this before." Snape bowed his head in acknowledgment. He had taken the liberty of adding a tiny amount of a warming potion to her drink before presenting it; this is what had created the noticeable smoky look in her glass. A Potions master should always be able to mix an exquisite drink, he believed, even if he rarely had the opportunity.

"Professor? Truth or consequences?" Hermione's voice was slightly husky now, from the strong drink. Snape did not recall ever hearing it sound like this before, not even when she addressed him with barely-controlled fury during class.

"Truth again, I think." Snape's eyes had darkened; Hermione was suddenly aware of their weight on her as she thought up her question. It seemed to take some time for her to make up her mind to ask it.

"Did you and Sirius ever…?" It took a moment for him to realize that she'd stated her question as fully as she could, and was still blushing.

"Sirius? What, precisely, are you attempting to insinuate?" His voice was icy, and would likely have caused her hasty departure from his rooms had she not been wrapped in the heat of the firewhiskey.

"I'm not insinuating anything, I'm asking a question, because those are the rules." Ah, there it was, that hint of polite but stubborn assertiveness he had seen her display when she was sure she was in the right.

"No, we did not ever," Snape snapped. He couldn't deny the technical correctness of her position, but he did not elect to elaborate, and put the question to her at once.

"Truth. I guess," she replied. She guessed? Surely she would never be so naïve as to consider choosing Consequences with him on the other side of the table?

"Very well, Miss Granger. Please explain what you and the Misters Potter and Weasley were doing in the forest that night."

"Wh- what night would that be, Professor?" He wondered how her face could take the near-continuous blushing and not actually catch fire, but he didn't dignify her stalling with a response. "We were just… going for a walk. In the Forbidden Forest… at night… with some blankets and cushions to… sit on."

"Miss Granger. I believe you are lying to me, and that is against the rules of this game, is it not?" This sentiment, which had begun in his standard lecture-delivering manner, ended in a demanding, deceptively silky tone.

Hermione avoided his eyes for a moment, feeling for all the world like a student caught red-handed smuggling contraband into the school, but summoned her courage and met his gaze.

"Well?" She only sighed in response. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to remind us of what the rules dictate should happen, if one party doesn't answer truthfully?" It was delightful to watch the girl try to work out an escape from the very rules she had so valiantly defended not two minutes ago.

"The other party is entitled to a forfeit, of course."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione found herself nearly glaring at the older man. "But I don't see how you can be so sure I'm not telling the truth, anyway."

Snape nearly laughed. "Hermione, you are aware I am a Legilimens? And I do not believe you've ever received any formal training in Occlumency, correct? In such a situation, it's not necessary for me to probe your thoughts just to sense an untruth."

Snape's first-ever use of her given name was not lost on Hermione, nor was his mocking but meaningful tone, roughened by the firewhiskey. She inclined her head in acceptance, and waited for his demand, uncertainty obvious on her face. She doubted he would be kind to her in his choice of a Consequence.

Snape, for his part, had never expected to be in a position of choosing one – he had assumed that both he and Hermione would stick to Truths in this game. He was aware than in its conventional form, the Consequences were generally embarrassing or obscene tasks, and he found little to appeal to him in that sort of humiliation, having been subjected to more than his share of it during his youth. Of course, he could require her to do something useful, like cleaning caldrons, but he intuited that such a task would break the momentum of the evening, wherever it was leading.

Watching Snape considering his options, Hermione felt her uncertainly blossoming into something that was almost like fear, if she had still been capable of being scared by the likes of Snape. She leaned forward to seize her glass, and drank deeply, inhaling the powerful fumes from the surface of the still-smoking drink.

Without intention, Snape mirrored her action, draining his glass in a large gulp. Suddenly, he found that his desired Consequence had popped into his mind, and he spoke it without checking to see how it sounded.

"Miss Granger, I wish you to stay sitting exactly as you are, and close your eyes for a period of one minute. Do you understand?" Even as he spoke he was unsure whether she would comply, and what would happen next if did.

She did not respond, but placed her drink on the table carefully, squared her shoulders, looked at Snape questioningly for a fraction of a second, and closed her eyes. For a few seconds, Snape was overcome by a feeling he only belatedly identified as pleasure – in her trust in him, her willingness to make herself vulnerable before him.

He moved over to sit next to her on his sofa, seeing her eyelids flicker when she felt the movement. A piece of her curly brown hair seemed to be tickling her nose, so he reached out to move it, but once his hand touched her skin, he found that it was necessary to stop and caress her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Her lips were parted slightly – from the firewhiskey, Snape thought. But as his thumb moved over her mouth he detected that she was also panting lightly, and his carefully-mixed cocktail would not have had that effect on her. How long had it been already? Snape had lost his sense of time, but her eyes were still closed, and she still sat stock-still – was she following his command to stay put, or was she shocked at his actions? Or worse?

But still, she was sitting still, and Snape knew he would not have this opportunity ever again, so he continued delicately along her jaw line, fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake, a sensation he could guess at by the fine hairs raising up under his fingers. He allowed them to trail back towards her mouth, and was shocked when the very tip of her tongue was suddenly there to meet his thumb.

"I believe you were to sit still, Miss Granger," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. He sensed a shiver traversing her body, her pink tongue disappearing obediently. Snape's eyes narrowed; his body was close enough to be attuned to the change in hers when he'd spoken. He had wondered if she would recoil when she remembered who it was sitting so close and touching her face so intimately, but it was clear to Snape that her body had reacted to his voice with heat. His sensitive nose was even picking up a novel scent emanating from her warmth; he recognized her arousal and knew immediately that he would never, ever be able to forget that particular scent.

"Good girl," he told her, enjoying the way she seemed to need more oxygen all at once. "I believe your 60 seconds are up, Miss Granger." He made as if to return to his own seat, but her hand reached out to his arm.

"Professor?" Her voice was uneven, and higher-pitched than he remembered it being the last time she spoke. Her eyes were still closed, and her breath was quick and shallow.

"Yes?"

"Truth or… consequence?" Snape had to wait a moment for his head to clear a bit, before he was able to process her question.

"Truth," he murmured into her ear, watching her squirm next to him. Truth be told, Snape was squirming himself, trying to work his erection into a more comfortable position without disengaging her hand, or letting her know what his problem was.

"Is your cock hard, Professor?" Snape's eyes flew open in shock, as Hermione licked her lips, her fingers gripping his arm tightly. Had he imagined her saying that? If not, how had she pulled that out of his mind, given that her eyes were still closed? His mind was filled with an instant replay of the way her lips had formed around the word 'cock', and he almost forgot to answer her question.

"Yes, Hermione. You're a clever girl, aren't you?" He saw that his voice was sending shivers of pleasure from her ear right to her core. "Truth? Or consequence?"

She moaned under her breath. "Consequence." Snape's erection was becoming painful; here was a gorgeous and brilliant and independent young witch, in his quarters, breathless and hot, essentially begging him to tell her what to do next. Her nipples were hard through her clothing, and there was that scent again – she wanted something, badly. He needed to be sure, though – he wanted to see her initiate what she wanted, what she wanted him to do.

"Listen carefully, Hermione," he began, focusing her attention with a gentle flick to the nipple nearest him. She gasped, letting her head drop back, tempting him to give up on the game and simply ravage her soft throat. "I want you to see in your mind exactly what you want to do right this instant. I want you to sit here until it's clear in your mind, and then I want you to show me what you want. Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely, stilling her body, which had been moving itself restlessly, seeking contact. She dropped her head forward and sat in this attitude for several seconds. When she raised her head, her eyes were open and –gods!—so dilated with desire that he would have suspected a love potion, if not for the fact that she'd not left his sight for the last hour. Hermione held his eyes for a few endless seconds, then finally reached out to separate his robes, then his shirt, then his trousers. When she had succeeded in uncovering what she sought, she broke his gaze and swiftly positioned her head over the tip of his cock. Before Snape had a chance to prepare himself, her tongue flicked out to catch the drip already ready at the tip, and slicked the substance over her lips with a small sound of pleasure. His cock pushed itself up to meet her lips of its own accord, Snape being unable to move except to lean back and allow her fuller access. He was unsure how much experience she'd had, but was forced to revise his best guess upwards when she abruptly swallowed most of his length down her throat, loosening and relaxing her muscles along the way. On the other hand, she'd always been a fast learner, and had probably researched advanced techniques – he almost laughed at the vision, but contained it, not wishing to offend at this moment.

She released his cock, straightened up to meet his gaze. "Was that sufficiently clear, Professor?" Her lips quirked up in a satisfied smirk. Snape found the expression endearing, but thought he had preferred her earlier state of rapid unraveling.

"Quite, Miss Granger." He spoke in a stern voice, predicting that it would bring that helpless look back into her eyes, as it did. "Please remove your robes at once." His eyes, now completely black, seemed to penetrate under her clothing as she stood to remove it, leaving only a red, insubstantial bra and matching panties. He stood also, and directed her into his adjoining bedroom, whispering a spell to Vanish his own clothing as he followed her.


	4. Chapter 4

When she reached Snape's bed, Hermione turned to face him, a new expression of nervousness on her face. Looking at her closely, Snape thought of a new question, and posed it as delicately as he could.

Embarrassed, Hermione looked around his room before replying. "I've done it before, but it was…" She seemed to be searching for words. "Not very good, actually." She smiled at him shyly. Snape was surprised that she was relatively inexperienced after all, but was relieved to know that at least it would not be her first time. Snape knew of several potions that were said to remove the pain of the first time, but not only had he never mixed them, he wasn't at all sure he trusted his hands not to tremble at the moment.

He wanted to say something to reassure her, to tell her that he would please her even if it meant denying himself release tonight. But words did not come, only a swelling in his chest as he looked at her standing there, baring herself to him, waiting.

He took her in his arms gently, at first, holding her to him, hoping his body would communicate his intentions. When he felt the tension leave her, he swept her legs out from under her so that they fell together onto his bed. In the same motion, he maneuvered his face between her breasts, still covered in red lace. Pushing the scrap of fabric away, he buried his face there, inhaling her scent, then moved his mouth to cover one of her nipples, which instantly became hard in his mouth. Answering, his cock soared to hardness again, moving in its own rhythm against her thigh. Snape felt the pulsing begin, and knew he was already ridiculously close to release.

Abruptly, he sat up and flipped Hermione onto her front. Running his hands down her bare back to her hips, he was irritated by the continued presence of her panties; he gripped them in his powerful fingers as he bent down to speak to her. "These are quite impractical, Miss Granger," he whispered silkily into her ear, just before ripping them apart and off her body. She said nothing, only began moving her now bare bottom around in a pleading circle. Snape allowed one finger to trail down the base of her spine, and into the crevice he found there; he was pleased to discover a pool of wetness waiting for him, into which he gently pushed two fingers, watching her for any signs of discomfort.

Hermione made a soft mewling sound when she felt his fingers slip inside her; Snape was tempted to take her right then, but instead pulled his fingers from her, ignoring her protesting noises, and brought his palm down firmly on her backside. She yelped, arching her back; he applied the same treatment to her other side, then leaned down again to bring his lips to her ear.

"It was impertinent of you to lie to me earlier, Miss Granger," he said smoothly, although his cock was throbbing painfully. Another smack on the bottom made her writhe in a way that suggested more than pain or surprise.

"Would you like me to tell you what I think you were doing that night, drunk in the forest?" Another blow, another whimper.

"I think you were off to get yourself gangbanged by the Dynamic Duo, Miss Granger." Smack. "I think you were desperate and needy and didn't have enough sense to knock on my door instead." The next blow was harder, and Hermione's body suddenly went relaxed, and changed to a slow thrusting movement against the bed.

Snape thought he heard her say something, her face muffled against the pillow. "What was that?" He paused, his hand poised above her ass.

"I said, yes, Professor." Snape landed his palm on her reddened cheek hard, provoking a low grunt.

"And?" Again, Snape waited for her response, this time tickling her sensitive skin with him fingertips.

"And I'm sorry, Professor."

Smack – harder than the last, especially to her newly sensitized skin. Snape slipped a finger inside her opening, shocked by the river of moisture he discovered. He'd known she was turned on, but didn't realize how far along she was to her own climax.

"_And_?" He brought his hand down quickly, without waiting for her to speak, and continued raining blows as she forced out her words:

"And I'll come to you from now on, I promise!"

Snape heard an unmistakable sob on her last word, and after one final stroke, he murmured a command that brought a bottle of cooling lotion from his bureau. He smoothed this over her flaming backside, taking the time to dip a finger into her heat as he massaged her. Once he was certain he'd remedied most of the pain, leaving her only with a gentle reminder, he turned her over and lifted her legs to her chest, knowing she was ready to take him.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he pushed just the head of his cock inside her, checking her again for any signal that he was too big. She just opened her eyes wide, her mouth following soon after as he slid himself all the way into her. He held himself motionless for a moment, until she began rocking herself against him. Holding off his own release, which he knew was only a few long thrusts away, he allowed her to grind herself against the base of his cock, knowing she was closing in on what she needed.

"It's time to come, Hermione," he crooned against her lips. She moaned her assent, as her body began arching itself against him.

"Good," he encouraged, pulling himself nearly out of her, then pushing quickly back in, and repeating. Hermione began to shout wordlessly, and he felt her nails scraping roughly across his back, and it was enough to trigger his explosion. Snape groaned, nipping her ear with his teeth as he drove himself into her as deeply as possible, and held himself there while spasms shook them both.

Both stayed perfectly still for a few ragged breaths. As Hermione begin to untangle herself, Snape lifted himself to free her, and turned to watch her.

"_Accio _Hermione's robes," she said, as she searched for her underclothes, or what remained of them.

"Miss Granger," Snape began. Hermione turned to him with an unreadable expression, tempting him to send just the lightest tendrils of his mind skimming over her thoughts, searching for a hint of what she felt at this moment. He detected confusion, and some deeper emotions he dare not probe lest she become aware of his presence there.

"Hermione, if you please, Professor." He could not tell if her tone was bitter, or wistful, or even teasing.

"Hermione, then. I would like you to know that I did not have this particular… outcome in mind, when I invited you here." He paused, taking care as he considered his next words. "But I found it quite – stimulating, and would be inclined to extend another invitation, if it would be welcome."

Hermione smiled at this speech, the gentlest she'd ever heard from the Potion master's lips. "Thank you, Professor, I would be honored." She was surprised at the relief written across his pale features – had he expected her to refuse, after… after what he'd done to her? "Perhaps we could attempt the Muggle chess next time?"

Snape's eyes smiled in return, though his lips were still serious. He moved to close the space between them, and crushed her briefly against himself before forcing his arms to open to let her go. She left without saying anything more, and he murmured the words to unlock his door before she reached it.

Snape found himself with a desire to pursue her, bring her back inside his darkened rooms, contain her and her warm scent within the cold walls. Instead, he re-warded his door, and drained the last of her drink, and wondered how much time would need to pass before he could properly invite her in again.

_End_


End file.
